


Till Death Do Us Part

by trustjack



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood and Violence, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustjack/pseuds/trustjack
Summary: Cousland and Duncan continue to travel to Ostagar, and Cousland can't take it anymore. Her survivor's guilt becomes too much to bear and she nearly ends it all.





	Till Death Do Us Part

       Two weeks forward and she still felt like she couldn’t breathe. There were times when the rage choked her, until she was doubled over in the shadows, far from the judgemental fire in the camp, far from the worried eyes of Duncan.  
       She’d dig her fingers into the dry soil; until she could form a fistful of dirt, until the rocks had scraped her knuckles bloody and her legs were sore from kneeling — and still there was a hand around her throat cutting off her breath. She’d pound her fists into the bark of trees, she’d think of cutting that _sickening_ smile off Howe’s face, she’d run, she’d hunt, she’d do anything to not think about the blood on her fingers when her hands came away from her father’s wound, anything not to think about Duncan dragging her wailing from that cellar.  
       Sometimes she wished Duncan had simply just run that night. Sometimes she wished that he’d have just let her die with her parents, burned with her home.  
       But that wasn’t Duncan.  
       Lynneth remembered one night when he found her, hunched over and shaking, rain dripping off her bare body. She thought was going to die. There was no feeling in her anymore — the grief had numbed, and been forgotten about as her body prioritised her survival.  
       It had been the first time since she’d been dragged from her parents that she’d felt at peace.  
       Lynneth didn’t believe in the Maker, but that night she prayed to Him for death.  
       Duncan draped his cloak over her, wet and heavy and cold, but a protection from the harsh iron of his armour. He carried her, through the forest, calm and silent as he always was, as Lynneth lay dying in his arms.  
       She remembers only flickers of memory from that night — the brightness of the fire, despite the heavy rainfall, her heartbeat slowing, Duncan’s firm hands, sitting her upright, forcing her to eat the hot stew she’d hunted down the night prior. She remembers blacking out.  
       The next time Lynneth opened her eyes, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and dawn was nearing the horizon, the blackness of the sky beginning to light up with blues and purples. As she looked down at herself, she noticed she was clothed again, and she wasn’t shaking — not any longer.  
       It had been strange — to be so close to death, to have faded into nothingness and yet wake up again so acutely aware of being alive.  
       Lynneth had risen from her cot, and slipped outside, to where Duncan still sat on a log, tending to the fire, as silent and calm as he had been the night before, as he had been the whole time she’d been travelling with him. The youngest Cousland sat next to him, stretching her legs to the edges of the flames, so that she could feel her skin burning.  
        “Hey,” she said quietly, folding her hands together, shame caught tightly in her throat.  
       Duncan didn’t look at her. “Good morning. I see you are well.”  
       Lynn choked out a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t say that.”  
       There was a pause of silence. Duncan prodded the logs in the campfire, his eyes focused on the flames as they rose steadily. Lynn watched him. It was easy being close to death — no feelings to consider, no shame or rage or grief. But now she was awake, and her feelings caught her heart once more, threatening to overwhelm her. She remembered last night, when that coldness was replaced by the realisation she would never feel this way again, and then Duncan snatched that peace away from her as well.  
        “You should have let me die.” She whispered.  
       Still, Duncan didn’t turn his head. “You are my recruit, and thus under my protection. I could not have let you freeze to death.”  
        “No, not last night.” Lynneth shook her head, her voice rising. “I mean, last night too, but that’s not what I meant. Back in Highever, when — when Howe stormed my castle. You should have let me die with my parents.”  
       The older man was quiet for a second, then two, before he opened his mouth again, this time turning to look at her. She must have looked deranged — with her matted curls all blown around her head, her eyes wide, still shaking from last night’s run-in with death. “And what good would that have accomplished? You would have thrown your life, your justice, away. Now, you have your life and you can do something good with it.”  
       That only turned Lynn’s pain into anger, as it so often happened these days. “No. That’s not your decision to make. You took my choice away from me. You looked my dying father in the eyes and blackmailed him. You ripped me from my parents. You took my choice away from me. If I had wasted my life in that cellar and died, at least it would have been _my choice_.”  
       The Grey Warden appeared taken aback, but Lynneth didn’t believe she could trust his surprise. “In time you will see that —“  
        “No!” Lynneth stood up, her fists curling. “No. That was my choice and you stole it from me. There is no but to this story. Are you so blind to see that I am miserable? That I would rather die than join you? I cannot hold this pain. Every day, I feel like I’m suffocating. And it is _your fault_.”  
       Duncan didn’t rise to her level, but let the branch he’d used to tend the fire down by his side. There were tears in Lynneth’s eyes, and Duncan looked into them, unflinching. “The Grey Wardens have a duty above mere human pain and misery. Your grief will mean less to you once you see the true evil in this world.”  
       Lynneth exploded. “Do not speak to me of my grief! You know nothing of it. You’re no better than Howe, and I will _never_ commit to your cause. You can drag me across Thedas in shackles, you can keep me alive, and force me to do your bidding but I will never be yours or the Grey Wardens’.” Lynneth whipped away from him, as angry hot tears streamed down her face. “One day, you will be dead and only then will I truly be free."  
        And with that, Lynneth took a deep breath, steadying herself, before blinking the last of her tears out of her eyes and retreating back into her tent to get dressed.  
        “We should get going if we’re to arrive at Ostagar before the battle.” She stated, as if their other conversation had never taken place. “Let’s pack up.”


End file.
